


Different Roads Sometimes Lead to the Same Castle

by HockeyShit



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, but it's happy I promsie, just siblings being siblings - Freeform, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 16:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18503002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HockeyShit/pseuds/HockeyShit
Summary: "Remember when father used to tell us stories about Robert’s rebellion? Robb and I loved those stories, we dreamt that someday we’d ride side by side into battle. Father always made it out to be more glorious than it probably was."On the eve of danger, the four remaining Stark kids settle into what used to be their Lord Father's bed and tell their own stories.





	Different Roads Sometimes Lead to the Same Castle

**Author's Note:**

> GRRM is dead set on not be JRRT, but part of LOTR that I really enjoy is when they all meet up at various points they make an effort to learn everything about where they have been. so here is that but with the Starks.

Jon helped Bran into the bed setting him up against the headboard, while Sansa piled pillows in the corner of the two walls before she settled and pulled her feet underneath her. Arya handed both Bran and Sana a cup of mulled wine, she handed Jon a cup too before bouncing into the bed and sitting against the wall.

“Arya! We’ll spill our wine.” Jon smiled to himself before climbing up and sitting next to Arya. Despite having taken back Winterfell, he hadn’t reacquainted himself with the warm walls. What he had taken for granted as a child was now a luxury he now treasured.

“Remember when Fath- Lord Stark used to tell us stories about Robert’s rebellion?” Jon pulled his mulled wine close to his chest, wishing he could feel the warmer summer winds of the evenings when all the kids would gather around Lord Stark, listen to him tell them stories of knights and kings and honorable men making the world a better place.

“He’s your father you know,” Sansa reached a foot out and nudged Jon’s outstretched leg. “Maybe not by birth but he loved you like his son, you loved him like your father, you’re not changed, not truly” Jon blushed smiling, to hear that from Sansa made it all the more truthful.

“Father then, remember when father used to tell us stories about Robert’s rebellion? Robb and I loved those stories, we dreamt that someday we’d ride side by side into battle. Father always made it out to be more glorious than it probably was.” Jon ached for his brother then, thinking about all the ways he had blundered, he knew Robb wouldn’t have, Robb would be better at this than he was.

“Father was on the winning side,” Bran said, Jon hadn’t gotten used to the way Bran was now, the Three Eyed Raven he called himself, but Jon could tell there was still some of Bran in there, Bran from before. “Father didn’t have to fight the Night King.”

“No,” Arya agreed “Just the Mad King and R-” She sent Jon a sheepish look and pulled her knees to her chest.

“And Rhaegar Targaryen,” Jon finished for her, he wasn’t sure how to feel about that, he had no love for the man, in fact, he had grown up believing he was an evil villain. “Regardless of anything else, it’s true.” Jon could sense questions on his sibling’s lips, “I don’t want to talk about it, not right now.”

“You were the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch,” Arya said changing the subject, and Jon smiled though he knew his face probably betrayed the pain he felt at the mention of his old post. “How’d that happen? You would have been, just a boy at the time.”

“I was a man.” Jon watched as Ghost got comfortable in front of the hearth soaking up the warmth of the fire. “I was, it was Sam really, he got me elected, him and my friends they- they’re all dead now I expect well they-”

“Eddison Tollett is alive and on his way south with Tormund Giantsbane and their men.” Bran interrupted

“Edd, Edd is coming here?” Jon smiled, he’d missed Edd, almost as much as he missed Gren and Pyp. “He helped make me Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.” Jon launched into the story, skipping over the mutiny and  Old Bear’s death, he focused on how proud he had felt.

“I couldn’t help but think, I wished it had happened when Father was alive that he knew.” Jon took a sip of the mulled wine, he had thought often about the things he wished his father knew about him.

“He’d be proud of you Jon.” It was Sansa again “he’d be proud of you, and he’d be proud of Robb, and Rickon, he’d be proud of you Arya, and you Bran. He’d be so proud of you all.”

“And you,” Arya said smiling at her sister across Jon, “He’d be proud of you, you’re smart, the smartest person I’ve ever met, smarter than any of the Masters, you’ve saved Winterfell on more than one occasion, saved our family. He’d be proud.” Jon watched as Sansa brought her hand up to wipe away her tears.

“Well you go on, you never told me what happened after father- where you went when you left kings landing.” Jon felt like the air was knocked out of his stomach, realizing that his sisters had been there when their father was executed, he wanted to ask them about it, but they clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

Then it was Arya’s turn. Jon listened intently as Arya talked about hiding in the midst of the Night’s Watch recruits. He didn’t quite remember Yoren the way Arya talked about him, but he was glad she had been with one of his brothers.

“Gendry? You mean the Gendry in the forge?” Jon could hardly believe it.

“Yeah, He hasn’t told me how you know him, he was my friend I told him-” Arya smiled a bit to herself, “I told him I’d be his family when we- when we were on the road.” Sansa made a noise that Jon could only describe as a shrike.

“YOU LIKE HIM!” Sansa shouted Jon had never seen Arya go so bright red. “OH, YOU DO.” Sansa was grinning but Arya was hiding behind her cup of mulled wine.

“Leave her be Sansa.” Jon laughed, he had a hard time imaging Arya ever falling in love with some man, but most things seemed possible here on the brink of the most danger mankind had ever been.

“You have to tell me all about him later,” Sansa said settling back into her corner and sipping on her mulled wine.

“What about you Bran, what stories do you have?” Jon asked he’d gotten a lot from Sansa, but Bran hadn’t spoken much of his journey north.

“I saw you once Jon,” Bran said he wasn’t looking at any of them. “When you were north of the wall.”

“When, why didn’t you come to me?” Bran spoke as if he were decades older than he was, not quite a man yet he’d said, but if Jon just listened to him it was like listening to a maester talk. It was then that Bran told them of his time in Craster’s keep, how they left, and how Bran watched Jon, and he didn’t call for him.

“You would have taken me back.” Bran ended with and Jon felt his shoulders sink.

“North of the wall is no place for a boy.” Jon put his hand on top of Bran’s

“I’m the Three Eyed Raven now.” Jon sighed and rubbed his thumb over the top of Bran’s hand.

“You’re still my brother-” Jon shook his head and interrupted Bran before he could say anything “I know, you’re not really my brother anymore you’re, you’re the Three Eyed Raven. But you’re still my brother Bran, to me.” Bran seemed content to not correct Jon this time.

“This is depressing, I want to talk about Arya and Gendry, but since Arya won’t say anything-” Sansa’s eye moved to Jon. “What about you? Have you ever been in love? Other than-” A shadow passed over Sansa’s face. “Have you ever been in love?”

Jon shook his head. “I spent all my time before in the Night’s Watch who would I fall in love with?” Jon asked but as soon as he said it he felt a pain in his heart. “I was, her name was Ygritte.”

“Ygritte? Was she a who-”

“She was a wildling.” Jon tried not to let hostility slip into his voice, how would Sansa know who she was, it made the most sense anyway, that she would be a whore from Moletown. “It’s not a very happy story, it’s not a story for the songs like you want.”

“The stories in the songs are never happy anyway, please tell us?” Jon had expected Sansa to tell him she had grown out of loving the stories of the songs.

Jon hadn’t told anyone about Ygritte, not since Tormund had told him to burn her north of the wall. He’d carried her memory with him. But telling his siblings, at first it felt like a betrayal of her, but she wasn’t his secret, not really. Even the brothers of the Night’s Watch must have known he knew her well, if not loved her when he took north of the wall to burn her.

When he got to the part where they climbed the wall Arya leaned into his side, he moved to put an arm around his younger sister’s shoulder.  Sansa looked enraptured by the story, smiling when Jon recounted telling Ygritte about Winterfell. He got choked up when he talked about leaving her, rubbing his leg where her arrow had caught him.

“She SHOT you?”

“She had to Sansa, she…. she could have killed me, she should have killed me, she was that good of a shot but she didn’t. She loved me so she let me go.” Jon scratched at his beard. “You don’t want to hear the rest.”

“Please?” It was Arya, curled into his side who asked. Jon could almost imagine she was the young girl he had left at Winterfell all those years ago. Jon could never say no to her, so he finished the story. He didn’t realize he was crying until he was done.

The four siblings sat in the quiet for a long time after that. But it was Sansa who finally spoke up.

“That is a story for the songs.” She whispered, Jon realized she was crying as well.

“Not a happy song, not the songs I ever liked.” Sansa laughed at that.

“You only liked the songs about killing and battle.” Jon smiled a bit.

“What about you? We’ve told plenty of stories, what about you Sansa?” Jon looked up at Sansa and saw her smile fall.

“I don’t have, I don’t have any happy stories to tell.” she wasn’t looking at any of them any longer, her eyes fixed on Ghost at the hearth.

“Your escape from Ramsey with Theon.” It was Bran who spoke. “It’s not a happy story, but it’s a good story.” Jon nodded, Sansa had been very tightlipped about what had happened since their father had been killed. He’d tried to piece together the little parts he’d figured out but he couldn’t figure out her escape from Ramsey. Theon had played some part in it, that much he knew, but he couldn’t puzzle out anything else.

“I’m not talking about Ramsey, I’m not, I’ll start from the middle.” She finally conceded. When she spoke it was almost mechanical, like she was trying to detach herself from the story. Jon moved his hand from Bran’s and put it on top of hers, she smiled a shaky smile as she finished her story.

“I told you, it’s not happy.”

“Bran was right,” Arya said, Jon had almost expected she had fallen asleep against him. “It’s a good story.”

“I wish Robb were here,” Jon said after they had sat in silence for a while. “We could use some good war stories. War stories where the good guy wins.” Jon thought, not for the first time about how Robb would know better than him what to do.

“We could use Robb.” Sansa said, “I mean, Jon you’re-”

“Not Robb. I’m not Robb.” Jon laughed, “He would have handled everything better than me.” Jon was looking at Ghost again, the direwolf asleep in front of the fire.

“Hush, we’re not talking about that now,” Sansa said. It felt like the room got cold before Sansa spoke again. “You were the last one to see Rickon alive can you-”

“Not tonight,” Sansa nodded, pulling her knees closer to her.

“I can tell a story about Rickon.” they all turned to Bran, who started talking before any of them could say anything. Jon wasn’t sure what it was, but while Bran spoke about his time with Rickon after they left Winterfell, he seemed more like Bran than he did like the Three Eyed Raven.

When Bran stopped talking Jon looked down to find Arya asleep against his chest, and then saw Sansa dozing against the wall.

“Bran, I think it’s time we all go to bed.” Jon gently shook Arya’s shoulder moving her wine before it spilled. Arya sat up slowly rubbing her eyes.

“I thought-” Arya didn’t tell Jon what she thought before she started crying and leaned against Jon. he wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back.

“Shh shh, it’s alright.”

“I dreamt it was just like you said like we were sitting around father and he was telling us stories.” Jon pulled her as close as he could with their cups of mulled wine in his hands.

“Shh shh.” He kissed the top of her head. “We all miss them, Robb and Rickon and father and- And Lady Catelyn but we have to be brave, we have to keep going on for them, and remember them.”

“How can we be brave? I’m so afraid.”

“That’s the only time you can be brave,” Bran said and Jon felt his heart tug, it must have been one of fathers adages. Brand sounded almost like Lord Stark when he said it.

“The lone wolf dies,” Jon said

“But the pack survives.” Jon didn’t know when Sansa had woken up, but she was awake enough to finish the line.

“We have each other, and we have their memories,” Jon said hugging Arya as best as he could. “Come on, let’s all get to bed, we’ll have to be up tomorrow, to run Winterfell, to save the North. And we’ll do it thinking of them, and standing side by side.”

They moved slowly, not wanting to break the magic of the night, it felt as if they would lose this moment when they opened the door, that as soon as they left the room the real world would come back to them.But still, Jon had to help Bran to bed, he had to make sure Arya made it, and that Sansa was comfortable before he went to bed. When the last good night was said Jon made his way to his room Ghost at his heals. Tomorrow the sun would rise, tomorrow was another day, they would wake up and fight. And maybe, just maybe they would have more stories to tell years from now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumbr @ Nedstarkwolfdaddy


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